Brothers
by MadeOfSquirrels
Summary: Cute, fluffy, random stuff about Thor and Loki when they grew up. Somebody stop me.


Thor was the Asgardian equivalent of four when Loki appeared.

He did not remember exactly when, but one day, without warning, the halls of the Royal Palace of Asgard were filled with the sound of a baby crying. He had been curious at this sound, and had entered the main hall to see his mother, Frigga, cradling a bundle of blankets.

"Come and see your new baby brother," she called to him, and he took uncertain steps towards the crying bundle. When she had sat down on the steps, he had seen the screwed-up face of a little baby, and had immediately been full of curiosity. Where had it come from? Why was it in his mother's arms, where his place rightfully was? He felt a little pang of jealousy, and then the baby opened its bright blue eyes. They flickered around the room before settling on Thor, and the baby opened its mouth and cooed.

"He likes me?" he asked slowly, and the baby giggled gleefully. "What is his name, Mother?"

"We haven't decided on one yet," Odin said, appearing behind him and scooping him up into his arms. "What do you think?"

"I like Iôrund," Frigga said, and Thor shook his head, staring at the baby who was now gumming wetly at the edge of the blanket. "Oh, I see." She smiled at her son, and Thor turned to Odin.

"I want to call him Lucky," he said stubbornly. "Like it."

"Loki?" his mother said, mishearing, and as if it was a sign Loki closed his eyes and cooed gently to himself before falling asleep. "Well, it seems your brother has named you."

* * *

Thor was about nine when he discovered how annoying Loki truly was.

When he was an only child, he had the run of the palace; only Heimdall kept any kind of an eye on him, and he often got into mischief in the kitchens, stealing apples and venison where he could, or else explored the old towers that his father had _expressly forbid_ him to enter.

No more.

Now, all he heard was 'Thor, take _Loki_ with you.'

'Thor, keep watch of _Loki_.'

'Thor, you set a bad example to _Loki_.'

It was more than anybody on the verge of being a grown-up – hewasalmost_ ten_, did they not realise? – could take. Having a constantly-curious six-year-old tumbling after you? He could not visit the kitchens any more – Loki had almost pulled a pot of boiling water onto himself, which had ended his career in food-thievery before it had begun. He could not enter the towers – Loki had fallen down the stairs of one, bumping his leg. And after the incident where Thor took them all to Jötunheim, only the fact that Loki might actually tell everyone Thor had been captured by a frost giant stayed his hand.

* * *

Thor was fifteen when he discovered how much he needed his brother, and his brother him.

They had been sent on a mission by Odin to Álfheimr – rumours of a monster attacking the elves had been circulating, and Odin had entrusted this to them. Thor was not best pleased at taking a twelve-year-old with him, but Odin had been insistent that they learn to get on together, and since the monster did not seem like anything too serious, he sent them on the proviso that if they get in over their heads, they were to leave immediately. Loki, by this point a shy, scrawny youth with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, immediately agreed. Thor, a broad-shouldered, golden-haired warrior of legend – he wished – did not agree quite so readily.

When they reached the cool, shady realm of the elves, Loki had spotted the bother straightaway. It was a wyvern, and as soon as it caught their scent it began to snap at them with its ugly blind head. As it was easily the size of the feasting hall snout-to-tail, they had hidden behind a tree at the first opportunity.

"I will slay it, brother, do not fear," Thor had said imperiously, and Loki had stared at it, eyes impassive and a misty aquamarine in the tree-lights.

"How will you pierce its armour, brother?" he had asked, and Thor stared at the enormous pearly scales on its back.

"Uh…"

Loki had run out, hollering and waving, and Thor had felt panic. A burst of love and panic and fear and numbness, that had spread from his toes to his head in one dizzying rush.

And then the other four Lokis burst into being at the edges of the glade, and as the dragon snapped at all, confused, the real Loki had begun to pepper it with missiles. Fire, water, electricity.

"Brother!" he had called, and Thor had taken a flying leap onto the monster's back. "_Use the sword_!"

Thor had understood. He had used the sword to pry a scale from the wyvern's back, Loki keeping it distracted, and had plunged his sword deep into its flesh until it had eventually reared, wailing and roaring, and then fallen. Onto Loki.

His first glance had told him that his brother was dead. He lay, partly visible, under the neck of the great beast, unmoving, one pale hand lying open, the fire in it winking out. His illusions, staring at the body of their creator, began to fade, and Thor had tumbled from the body of the dragon, rushing over. He had managed to push the neck of the dragon from his brother's body, and knelt next to him, feeling – unsure. Of anything. He had picked him up, and rolled him over. His brother was covered in dirt and blood.

"Loki?" he had asked, and felt something hot dribble down the side of his face. He had put a hand up, expecting blood, and found nothing but tears.

Then Loki had coughed, blue eyes fluttering open, and the joy Thor had experienced had had no equal.

"Th-thank you," Loki had spluttered, and Thor had picked him up, not setting him down until they were back in Asgard, at the palace, where Frigga and Odin could fuss over him.

* * *

That night, in the room they shared, Odin had walked in to tell them it was time to rest, and found them crammed onto one bed, Thor crushed up against the wall, Loki curled up with a book balanced precariously in his arms.

Odin had walked away. One day, he would have to tell them about Loki.

He wondered how they would take it.


End file.
